Tea Bags
by yiyjfgyty
Summary: The bellboy stared up at the Gatewater Hotel helplessly. He had been questioned as a witness to murder, so of course he couldn't work there anymore. Now what...? Two-shot, It's Not yaoi, I swear
1. Chapter 1

(( A/N: I love the Bellboy, haha. So…yeah. I don't quite know if this is a comedy or angst, my bad. xD And no, there's no intentional yaoi in this, but I guess if you squint your eyes you can see it? Anyway, enjoy!

And… it's a two-shot. ;D))

Tea Bags

A fanfiction by: Mr.Trite

He stood in front of the Gatewater Hotel like a statue, the only movement coming from him the tears, slowly falling from his big brown eyes silently, his lower lip trembling slightly. Fired. He had worked at the hotel for as long as he could remember- Ten years? Eleven? - and this was what he got? It wasn't fair!

As he was an honest man, he could easily say that this wasn't what he was expecting. Although, he had known that there was going to be trouble the first time he saw that defense attorney, who had asked him about Miss April May- Nobody could have hair _that_ spiky and not be a potential threat to society. But, speaking of Miss May…She had defiantly been a beautiful young woman, her soft _giggling _bouncing around whenever he looked at her. He blushed whenever he thought of the young woman- Who would have guessed that she would have cost him his job- Nay, his _life_?

_"I'm sorry", _the hotel manager had told him with regret in his voice, "_But we can't have somebody involved in the investigation of Miss Mia Fey's murder here. We have to fire you_._"_ The world had had stopped as the very words came out of the manager's mouth, and the bellboy- Well, ex-bellboy- still had the ringing of those final five words ringing in his years. He found himself bursting into a new batch of tears as he starting shaking, his knees beginning to become wobbly and Jello-like. _Now_ what was he going to do with his life?! What kind of horrible job would somebody take over being a _bellboy?_

Suddenly, a hand clasped on to his shoulder and he gasped, turning sharply- Was he being attacked?! Was this how his day was going to be?!

No. he found himself staring up at a young silver-haired man, his face pale and already marked with-premature stress wrinkles, which were especially presented with his eyebrows bunched up like that. The lids of his eyes were half closed, giving him an air of importance. It was the fierce intelligence burning in his eyes that allowed the ex-bellboy to pinpoint a name to the face. "Sir…Mr. Edgeworth?"

Mister Miles Egdeworth was rooted to the spot, his hand slowly sliding off of the shoulder of the ex-bellboy that stood before him, like a great king standing before a squire. After a long while he spoke, his voice strung with foreign accent- it was British, he decided.

"You. You work there, right?" He pointed to the hotel that the young, ex-bellboy had just been fired from, causing him to frown. "Well," He started with a shaking voice, "I did…" With that, he burst into another set of tears, clinging onto the prosecutor for dear life. "It was the best job ever, Mr. Edgeworth! It was my destiny to work there!" He continued to sob, leaving large stains on the man's pinkish suit, causing Miles to sigh. "But…You're still wearing that uniform. If you were fired, why do you still own that…_thing_?" Edgeworth wrinkled his nose at the crème colored uniform with its rose trimmings- Why anybody would want to walk around in that, he didn't know and couldn't guess. It was crazy, thought Edgeworth, especially compared to what _he_ wore- Why walk around in that God-awful outfit compared to his luxurious, normal courtroom attire? It was simply stupid.

The ex-bellboy looked down at the outfit, sighing sadly. "They let me keep it for memory purposes…Because I just _loved_ working there! I mean- Who _doesn't_ grow up wanting to be the bellboy?!" It seemed as though the older man was going to go through another mini-breakdown, so the prosecutor patted him on the back, letting him sulk in his own misery, comforting him as best as he knew how. "There, there…" _Ugh. Are people __watching_?!

"Look, sir. I have a…_proposition_ for you." At these words, the ex-bellboy looked up at the well-dressed prosecutor, who in return looked away as he adjusted his fluffy white cravat, clearing his throat. "Listen…I know you lost your job- You _were_ a witness to a murder investigation, after all." Before the man had a chance to question Edgeworth, he answered. "Why I asked you if you worked there? For clarification, of course. Anyway, I thought that you might want to come work for me." The ex-bellboy looked up, sniffling. "But…" he trailed off, "I don't _have_ a law degree, sir!"

_No, really?_ Instead, Edgeworth shook his head. "No, no. Not like that. How would you like to come work in my office- become _my_ bellboy, in a sense? Does that sound promising enough for you, or do you wish to stay here and sob your life away?" The ex-bellboy looked up at Edgeworth as if he were God. "Are you…"

"Serious?" He finished up his sentence perfectly as he narrowed his eyes. "Yes- I never kid, Mister Bellboy." Before Edgeworth could ask the man for his real name, the prosecutor found himself plummeted to the ground by the ex-bellboy- Well, not so much anymore-, his brown eyes shining like light bulbs. "Urk!" It would appear that the bellboy was stronger than he looked.

The twenty-six year old, in return, couldn't stop smiling. "Really?! Wow!" He said this joyously, and Edgeworth imagined him as a dog, his tail wagging with excitement. "Thank you!" he cried, "Thank you so much, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Gah! S…Stop it! People are _watching_!"

xxx

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

It had been exactly one year since the bellboy had been hired by the great prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, and he couldn't be much happier. Despite what the newspapers said about the young, silver-haired man, the twenty-four year old was a great boss- He even got paid.

No, Miles Edgeworth certainly was no demon, simply a hard worker; one could even say that he was misunderstood. The young bellboy, now twenty-seven, had often found his boss working the graveyard shift, staying up as late as three o' clock in the morning to finish the job at hand. Mr.Edgeworth was just a workaholic, and simply that alone. He just had no time to get up and make his own tea.

And that's where the bellboy came in. As a matter of fact, that's what he was doing this fateful morning- Serving tea to his beloved Mr. Edgeworth. However, it had been…_different_ this time. He knew that Mr.Edgeworth was always tense after a case, but this time it seemed especially so. Down at the lobby, he had heard that the case had something to do with Damon Gant, the current Chief of Police, along with Lana Skye, Chief Prosecutor.

The bellboy liked Mr. Gant. Often, the man came to visit Mr.Edgeworth to drop off a piece of evidence concerning a case, and the bellboy found himself in causal conversation with the Chief of Police. The twenty-seven year old had always kept it in mind to take up that offering on a swim some day.

"Uhm, Mr.Edgeworth? I brought you your tea…" Where did he go? Had Mr.Edgeworth gone looking for him? The bellboy realized with a sinking heart that he must have been taking too long. He gulped nervously, pulling at his collar with a free hand. Ooh…This was going to cost him…

Huh?

His eyes moved to the desk of his employer, looking as perfect and as clean as always. The large bay window that lay behind it almost made the wooden desk seem to glow, most likely due to the polish used on it. However, something stood out against the shine, something white. It appeared to be an envelope of some sort. There was no name on it, no addressee.

_Hmm…_ This was defiantly unusual. Normally, Mr. Edgeworth would only have a blank envelope on his desk if it contained a letter from Mr. Gant, or the bellboy brought it to him directly. Well, he most certainly didn't give Mr. Edgeworth anything that day, and Mr. Gant hadn't come by the office today- He'd know. A dark feeling came over the bellboy, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Hmm..." He wondered again, this time out loud. "A letter? I wonder who it's from..." He found himself placing down the silver tray that held Mr.Edgeworth's tea and taking the envelope off of his employer's desk with shaking hands.

This…This was an invasion of privacy! What of Mr.Edgeworth came in while he was opening the letter? He would lose his job for sure!

However, before he could stop himself, the envelope was opened and he held a letter in his hands. The paper it was composed of was thick; the type you knew was expensive by simply touching it. It was a crème color, although darker than the bellboy's Gatewater Hotel uniform. The edges of the letter were delicately designed with some pre-made reddish colored decoration, close to the tone of pink matching Miles Edgeworth's suit color. There were six words in the upper right corner. This was a style of lettering that the bellboy, after just a year, knew all to well.

From The Desk of Miles Edgeworth:

The Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death.


	2. Chapter 2

(( A/N: This actually wasn't intended as a two-shot, but overall it was too long for just one chapter. xD I wrote one right after another, so that's pretty much how they'll be uploaded.

…So yeah. I hope you're still enjoyin' ;D))

Tea Bags

A fanfiction by Mr.Trite

The great prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses…death?

The bellboy read the seven words over and over again, the fine paper shaking in his hands even more than it already was. Death. He read the word again, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. He shook it off, thinking how mad his boss would be if he saw such a mess on the floor- After all, this could just be a prank, right? Some sneaky way to test how loyal the bellboy truly was to his employer?

"_Serious? Yes- I never kid, Mister Bellboy."_

He looked to the bay window that he was just previously admiring- He knew how fond Mr.Edgeworth was of that window- He made the bellboy clean it every four days. He'd often find his employer staring out of the window when he wasn't working, silently sipping his tea. How sad he always seemed to look, that haze in his eyes…Almost as if his mind was somewhere far, far away…

The twenty-seven year old rushed towards the window, the fancy letter he once previously held in his hands fluttering to the floor like a fallen butterfly, narrowly missing the desk. Only when he made it to the window did the bellboy realize that it was wide open.

Frantically, he stuck his head out the window, narrowly missing the statue of the Steel Samurai that a 'Miss Wendy' had sent him quite a while ago. He looked straight down onto the busy sidewalk and highway below, expecting to hear shocked screaming, and all-around chaos. It took him a minute, but the reality finally sank in that there was no screaming, and furthermore, no body. Where…?

He was on his feet again, before his mind had the time to catch up with his body. The parking garage. He ran desperately out of Miles Edgeworth's office, this being the fastest his legs had pumped- He would have to rest them in ice later once he found Mr.Edgeworth, of course. His suddenly swerved, narrowly missing a head-first encounter with a slightly older woman, long, cascading caramel hair falling down her back and a picnic basket slung over her arm. She didn't have the time to tell him off before he ran off, but did take the time to scream after him. "Watch where you're going, slave boy!"

"Sorry, Ms. Starr!" He cried this as he bolted down the fine carpeted stairs of the prosecution office, his determination taking over the politeness that he normally displayed; especially to people he barely knew. As he ran off, Angel Starr scoffed, twisting her made-up mouth into a scowl. "Men." She spat, and continued on her way.

xxx

_"Mr.Edgeworth?" The bellboy called out his employer's name, shuffling into his office as quietly as he could. It was Mr.Edgeworth's first day back from England, and the bellboy was a little more than ecstatic to have him back. Although he had permission to stay at Mr.Edgeworth's office- Which was complete with a bathroom, kitchen, and spare room- he couldn't wait for him to return. It had simply grown too quiet in the office without Mr.Edgeworth shuffling papers and signing letters, along with other important documents. He balanced a silver tray on one hand, one he had shined especially for Mr.Edgeworth's return, who hadn't made so much as a peep since then. However, the bellboy nearly dropped the platter as he walked more into the office, coming across a completely different scene then he had pictured in his mind._

_He was slumped over in his seat, head down on the desk. The prosecutor's arms were placed on it as well, folded directly in front of him, helplessly. They reminded the bellboy of folding chairs. Concerned, he placed the silver tray- Which balanced a crème colored tea set- on a nearby table, approaching the prosecutor. "Sir?" he asked again, weakly. Well, _this_ wasn't good. What if he had a heart attack or something? "Are you okay?"_

"_Go away."_

_The bellboy took a sharp intake of breath as he stepped back, his eyes growing wide at his employer's harsh words. He nodded once and turned- Something bad must have happened in England. Maybe he had been visiting an ill relative. Mr.Edgeworth never disclosed his reason for going- he was simply too private. The bellboy had just simply thought he was going because it was Christmas- Visiting the family and the likes. Maybe, he had thought, just maybe Miles Edgeworth was more festive than he thought._

_"Okay, sir." He answered solemnly, still nodding slowly "I…I left the tea here on the table, sir. Call me if you want anythin--" He stopped short, suddenly interrupted by something- A noise. It was an odd noise, like a dripping hiccup, which caused the bellboy to tense up. Was the tea kettle dripping? No. it was defiantly a noise he recognized, a noise that he was all too guilty of making himself just about four months ago._

_Miles Edgeworth was crying._

_The bellboy looked back at the young prosecutor, whose shoulders had started to shake slightly, listening to the sniffling that he was trying so hard to quiet. The bellboy felt sorrow aimed, right at the heart. He had, after all, been with Mr.Edgeworth for quite some time now, and never once did he ever think he'd see Mr.Edgeworth- Strong, strong Mr.Edgeworth- cry. _

_Silent as a cat, the bellboy walked over to his employer, and soon found his hands on his shoulders, causing the prosecutor to gasp, spinning around to face the bellboy, his normally beautiful pale eyes red and slightly puffy. "Didn't I _just _tell you to go away?" He asked with slight anger in his voice, his British accent muffled by the effect of his tears. The bellboy shook his head to show he was ignoring Edgeworth's request._

_And then proceeded to do something even more shocking._

_His hands started to move in a circular motion against Mr. Edgeworth's hard back, causing the prosecutor to shudder under his touch. The bellboy sighed as his thumbs massaged the hard-to-reach spaces in-between Mr. Edgeworth's shoulder blades, earning an appreciative moan. "Tell me what's wrong, sir." Said the bellboy kindly as he continued with his massage, which was having an obvious effect on Miles. He complied. _

_"vonKarma…" This was the only word that the prosecutor said- nay, whispered- and the bellboy thought that he had misunderstood. "Manfred vonKarma?" asked the bellboy, clueless. "Did he go on vacation with you to, Mr.Edgeworth?" Miles shook harder, and the bellboy could have sword he heard laughter. _

_"He…"- Mr. Edgeworth sniffled- "I hate him." The young bellboy looked at the prosecutor oddly. Mr. Egdeworth, as far as he knew, never said he hated _anybody, _not even Mr. Phoenix Wright, the defense attorney with the spiky hair that had cost him his record- His _perfect _record. "Sir…?" The prosecutor sighed again, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. The bellboy automatically reached into the pocket sewn onto the front of his uniform jacket and gave it to the sniffling prosecutor, which Edgeworth took with gratitude_

"_I'm sorry." He apologized, further confusing the bellboy. "I lied to you. I…I wasn't in England. Rather, I was on trial. For murder." This was what could be described as absolute shock. The bellboy could only stare at his now dry-eyed employer with his jaw practically dropped to his floor, the room spinning. Instead of responding with actual words, the bellboy made an odd squeaking noise at the back of his throat. He tried again. "But…"_

"_Yes." Edgeworth kept speaking, as if he had not heard the older man. "Yes, I was on trial for a murder I did not commit. Two, actually. And von Karma…He killed the second man, not me." Edgeworth sadly smiled up at the bellboy from his seat as he finished, his eyes glimmering despite all lost hope. "My father was a good man, you know. A very good man." _

"_Sir…" Edgeworth suddenly gasped as he was pulled into a tight hug, the bellboy's head resting on his shoulder. "Wh…What the hell do you think you're doing?! Let me go!" However, when the bellboy did not budge, the prosecutor sighed helplessly and leaned into the embrace. 'If you're this emotional over the whole thing, how about I just stop lying to you? It'll save me from a broken rib or two." At this, the bellboy nodded, a smile forming onto his lips. _

"_Y'know," he started, "You're alright, Mr.Edgeworth." _

xxx

The sound of the door banging open rang out through the entire prosecutor's parking lot, alerting two police officers that stood on the opposite side of the room, most likely off duty or on their lunch breaks. The bellboy paid them no mind as he rushed for the parking spot of Miles Edgeworth, where he hoped to see a gleaming red sports car waiting for him. Although he had never been inside it, the bellboy knew that this car was Mr.Edgeworth's pride and joy, along with the dog that he so frequently gushed over. That's why it made it so much harder to see the spot empty, causing the bellboy to fall to his knees, the two officers instantly alarmed. Mr.Edgeworth had truly killed himself? No!

It was something he couldn't bring himself to believe. It wasn't denial, but rather that is wasn't possible. Mr.Edgeworth, he knew, was a strong man- _especially_ for the young age of twenty-four. The bellboy, whom was three years older, was still shocked by this. What could have shaken him so badly…?

As the thundering of the police officer's steps neared closer, the bellboy's brown eyes caught the sight of yet another white envelope, this one taped neatly to the chain link fence that separated Parking Lot A , which was prosecution parking only from Parking Lot B, the defense's side. There was a single word imprinted on the envelope, causing the bellboy to smile as he rose to his feet. He walked over to the envelope and ripped it loose, removing the letter inside- It was okay, this time. After all, the letter _was_ addressed to him.

He removed the letter with the police officers standing behind him, unsure of what to do. The bellboy's hands automatically registered to the feel of the paper, and his eyes automatically shot to the upper right-hand corner of the page. Six words started back at him, written in a pre-printed cursive font, reddish in color.

And he knew everything was going to be okay.


End file.
